


Savage and Saint

by DoreyG



Series: The Beast Inside [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Biting, Dubious Consent, First Time, Light Dom/sub, M/M, No Lube, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 23:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: "What are you doing here?" He asks, knowing even as he says it that he sounds significantly more grumpy than this situation requires.





	Savage and Saint

**Author's Note:**

> Set vaguely in an AU where Miles isn't married to Keiko, which I completely forgot to mention upon first posting this because DON'T DO THINGS WHILE HUNGRY KIDS.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, knowing even as he says it that he sounds significantly more grumpy than this situation requires.

"This particular Andorian shipment contains several bolts of silk that I've been waiting for," Garak says smoothly, responding to his obvious hostility - as ever - with an incredibly annoying smile, "I thought I'd intercept them as they arrived, and save myself some time."

"There's no need," he grumbles brusquely, indicates the heaped cargo with an annoyed wave of his hand, "it won't take me any longer than an hour to go through all of this, and then I promise that I'll get your silk to you as soon as possible."

"Chief, I'm afraid that you're rather minimising the urgency of this matter. I, and my valued customers, have been waiting for this silk an _awfully_ long time." Garak gives him a wide-eyed look, one that'd have significantly more chance of being successful if he didn't know the devious mind that lurked underneath, "and, since there's no _law_ against multiple people going through the cargo at the same time..."

He's never quite sure what to make of Garak. A part of him knows _exactly_ why the man gets on his nerves - he's a Cardassian, he's too smooth, he looks like he knows absolutely everything in the universe - but other than the obvious it's a mystery. There are other Cardassians, there are other people who are too smooth, there are _certainly_ other folk who know far too much - none of them get under his skin quite like Garak.

"There _is_ a law, but it only applies when Quark is involved," he admits through gritted teeth, as Garak's oh so charming smile only grows, "so do what you want."

Garak gives him a faintly amused, faintly _mocking_ , look at that and bows his head respectfully. The next moment he's turned, mercifully without another teeth-grindingly cultured word, and started to search through the cargo with a rather obvious lack of interest.

For the best, he supposes.

The Andorian cargo is largely ordinary, the kind of stuff that they get in basically every day. He really doesn't need to be here to oversee it, quite frankly, but he's waiting for a diagnostic to run and he thought he might as well take the rare opportunity to stretch his legs. There are bolts, screws, power couplings and a thousand other little things vital to the running of the station. There are bundles of fabric, and glasses, and freeze-dried fruits and numerous other luxuries that people tend to indulge in when they're several light years away from home. There are boxes, and bottles, and mysteriously draped objects and all kind of curios that'd keep somebody who actually liked all this stuff busy for _weeks_.

Garak, to his credit, is at least a respectful search partner. He remains quiet, keeps his distance, searches through his informal half of the cargo efficiently without feeling the need to make any sort of conversation. Its still not great, being alone in a room with Garak is hardly ever gonna be _comfortable_ , but he finds himself able to relax at least a little. To actually do his job, without wondering if he's gonna get stabbed in the back at any point.

Until... _Crack_.

He groans, turns around wearily - expecting to see at least one priceless artefact in pieces across the floor - and instead finds Garak slowly backing away from a smashed pot plant. One with long green leaves, splotched all over with red, "I swear, I only brushed it."

" _This_ is why I didn't want you here." He sighs, and makes his way over through the otherwise mercifully untouched cargo. Something is tickling at the back of his memory about the red splotches, something from long ago back when he was still a soldier... "At least it wasn't anything more expensive, I guess. With any luck we can just re-pot this, and get it to its owner with no harm done."

Garak nods, takes another - _irritatingly_ respectful - step back as he draws level... And then sneezes, a sudden and surprisingly explosive movement. Just as his eyes fully take in the plant resting on the floor. The full extent of the red splotches, and the little dots of purple starting to bloom within.

"Suddenly I find myself feeling somewhat strange, "Garak says, lifting a hand to his forehead and frowning, "maybe the thought of sudden manual labour is making me feel faint."

"Oh," he says, in an entirely heartfelt manner, " _Shit_."

There's a long pause, as he fumbles for his comm badge and Garak slowly lowers his hand. The man's eyes have gone wide, his nose still twitches a little like he's trying to hold back another sneeze and he finally - _finally_ \- looks slightly perturbed, "I didn't know you cared so much about my emotional wellbeing, chief."

"Dax," he interrupts him anyway as he finally finds his comm badge, unable to savour the rarity of shocking Garak for even a moment, "Dax, thank fuck. I'm gonna need you to isolate cargo bay 3 for about an hour."

There's a pause, as Garak's eyes somehow go even wider, and then there's a crackle and Dax's voice responds, "anything wrong, chief?"

"There's been a minor contagion," he says, glances at Garak's expression and gives a somewhat grim - _almost_ satisfied - smile, "nothing to worry about, nothing that's gonna be fatal, but I don't want it causing problems with the rest of the station."

"Understood," he hears a few brief fingertaps, and sighs in relief as the noise from the vents reduces, "and I'll tell Bashir to be ready to check you over, once you get out. Have fun!"

"I won't," he grunts, and taps the comm link off again. Allows himself a brief but heartfelt sigh, before he turns back in Garak's direction.

"A contagion." Garak, who is still looking wide-eyed in a way that would be gratifying at any other time. Garak, who is glancing between him and the plant on the floor with a certain deadly swiftness that no actual tailor would be able to manage in a million years, "how... _pleasant_ sounding. What unpleasant side effects should I be bracing for, pray?"

"Somebody's brought a Himeros plant on board," he explains, taking an involuntary step forwards as heat starts to rise up within him, "that would've been fine in and of itself, if you hadn't knocked it over. In its dormant form its just a pretty plant with red splotches on it, but if you're stupid enough to activate it a whole different side comes out."

"I am not in the mood for recriminations, _or_ mysteries," Garak says through obviously gritted teeth, composure finally shaken, "what does this different side actually _do_?"

"Produces pheromones, that make anybody who comes into contact with them impressively horny," he says, and pauses to appreciate the look on Garak's face. If they weren't in this particular situation at the moment, he's pretty sure that he'd be laughing his head off, "back in the war, my platoon was briefly stationed just above Erotes. I stayed on the ship for most of it myself, but several of the other men went down and... Well, it turns out that an impromptu orgy isn't actually that great a bonding experience."

"I can already feel it taking effect," Garak whispers, sways a little towards him before visibly stopping himself with the dig of nails into his palm, "isn't there anything we can do, some way we can stop this? Surely it won't kill us if we just _don't_."

"I don't know, it's never been successfully resisted before," he says, tries to pitch his voice as soothing and is sadly unsurprised when it comes out as a low growl instead, "and I don't think we're gonna be the first, even if you're a trained spy and I'm an overly stubborn son of a bitch."

Garak's only response is a whimper, and an abortive lunge towards him that he only manages to stop by firmly grabbing the edge of a box and yanking himself to a halt.

"Is there anything I can do?" He asks, guilty and aroused and annoyed at both of those things all at once, "any way I can make this just a bit easier for you? I can't stop it, neither of us can, but there must be something..."

Garak gives another whimper, and he thinks that's all he's going to be getting for a moment. But then, with an obviously supreme effort of will, the man forces his eyes open again and somehow manages to focus on him, "the cameras."

He can do that, at least. He gulps, nods, staggers over to the nearest access panel on legs that feel increasingly rubbery with every second that passes. The camera controls are, luckily, one of the easier parts of the station to mess with if you know what you're doing. A few clumsy stabs of his finger, and they have some privacy.

He drags in a deep breath, briefly braces himself against the wall as heat rolls within him... And then he hears a few stumbling steps from behind him, another dragging whimper. And the rest of his thoughts fly out of his mind without a moment of hesitation.

He spins around to find Garak only a few steps away, staring at him with desperate eyes and body obviously shaking. In his wired state he doesn't even hesitate, doesn't even think for a moment - only strides over to the man, and yanks him body to body as sharply as he can.

Garak goes willingly, with barely a stumble, steps into his arms and slides their bodies together lewdly. Their clothes provide far more of a barrier than he'd like, but he can still feel the shape of the man's body - the lingering muscle, the surprising yield of it as they sway together.

He takes advantage of this new position, leans down to get a mouthful of Garak's neck ridge. It doesn't taste of very much, not even the lingering sweat that a human would have if he bit down in the same place, but the feeling of scales against his tongue is surprisingly... Erotic. All these years of hating Cardassians, and apparently it just takes touching one to make his cock forget prejudice altogether.

And, jesus, the _noises_ that Garak makes. The man is usually so put together, so annoyingly collected like nothing in the whole wide universe can touch him, that he never really thought him capable of passion. But now he gasps, he whimpers, he moans and bucks his hips like the prettiest of whores.

It'd be enough to drive a Vulcan mad with lust, and he's never been anywhere near as logical. He shoves at Garak's shoulders, drives him steadily backwards until the man's spine hits the box he was so desperately clawing at earlier.

The front of Garak's shirt is simple, surprisingly simple. He'd never really thought about it until this moment, his main feeling about Garak had been indifferent annoyance up until now, but he would've expected some labyrinth arrangement designed to frustrate even on the way to fucking. He finds himself yanking at it impatiently anyway, sending a few buttons flying away as he desperately tugs it down the man's arms.

Garak still doesn't protest, only keeps rocking up against him with these desperately needy sounds. If anything, he only gets louder. Progresses to full on moaning as he traces his teeth down the neck ridge until he finds the end just over the shoulder, and _bites_.

He earns a full body shudder for that, a desperate and passionate jerk of Garak towards him, and immediately decides that he wants more. Presses Garak even more firmly up against the box, lays his teeth back to the ridge and shoves one leg in between the man's thighs.

Garak catches on quick, at least, and it's _strange_ that he's never thought to appreciate that before now. The man falls open before him, grinds down shamelessly onto his thigh like he can think of nowhere better to be. It's the hottest thing he's ever seen, dragging somebody so _superior_ down to the level of the rest of them. He wants to take and take and take, and make Garak love every single moment of it.

He bites at Garak's neck ridge again, punishingly, and then moves his mouth back up. Nips at Garak's jaw, grazes his teeth over the side of his face and then bites down on his ear so hard that he tastes something faintly coppery on his tongue.

Garak cries out underneath him, and what remains of the logical part of his brain briefly intercedes to point out that there are better ways to sate himself. He draws back briefly, grabs Garak hard by his shoulders and spins him until he can bend the man fully over the box. A feast, laid out for his pleasure alone.

Garak goes easily, with only a small approving moan, and he rewards him with a hard bite to the back of the neck. Lingers there for a second, dragging his tongue across the scaly flesh, before lowering one of his hands down Garak's front.

The fastenings of the man's pants are slightly more complex than those of his shirt, but they still fall apart with one good yank. Garak's not wearing any underwear underneath, and he can't hold back a low grunt of approval at the feel of flesh. The fabric slides easily down the man's thighs, baring him to his approving gaze without even the slightest effort.

Garak's cock is already out of the pouch that Cardassians keep their genitalia in, pulsing against his thigh with those somewhat dangerous looking spikes glistening with arousal. He ignores it for now, even though its the first time that he's actually seen one in person, and grabs Garak's wrists instead. Slams them down on top of the box, and holds them there until the man hopefully gets the message that he's supposed to be ignoring his cock too.

He's never thought of Garak as beautiful before, has always been too busy mistrusting him with a bone-deep conviction, but _goddamn_ does he submit prettily. He melts into the box with a low and approving murmur, digs his claws into the wood to stop himself from moving. The man doesn't even protest when he kicks his legs apart, pauses to appreciate the view for a long few seconds even with the blood rushing urgently through his veins.

There's no time to hesitate, though. His cock is rock hard, so much so that he actually lets out a soft sigh of relief when he frees it. Garak glances back over his shoulder at that, gives a needy whine and shifts his arse appealingly backwards. It takes only a quick slap to still him again, and holy _fuck_ he doesn't know why he never considered this method of shutting the man up before.

He has no lube, but judging by what little he's gathered of Garak's preferences that won't be such a problem. He puts his fingers briefly in his mouth, gets them nice and wet and brings them between Garak's thighs with what small gentleness he can muster.

As he guessed, the first finger slides in easily. The second finger is a little tighter, but still thrusts in without too much trouble and earns a low whine from Garak besides. He moves them slowly within the man, carefully. He's impatient, his cock still feels painful between his legs, but he still doesn't exactly want to _hurt_ the guy.

He keeps at it until Garak is bucking beneath him, begging for it with low whines and heartfelt groans, and then immediately replaces his fingers with the head of his cock. He goes slowly at first, pressing and pressing as Garak goes completely still beneath him. Just the head, and then the first inch of his cock, and then the second, and then...

He seats himself fully inside Garak, with a shaky sigh, and Garak _keens_ beneath him. Digs his claws even more firmly into the wood of the box, and thrusts his body back hard like he wants to be filled even more fully.

And, well. Who is he to argue with a request like that?

He presses Garak back over the box, draws out of him for the briefest moment and then _thrusts_ back in as deeply as he can. Garak makes a guttural sound in response, arching his back as his inner muscles clench, and he swears desperately. Drives back in even deeper, heedless of anything but the pleasure steadily building in his veins.

It takes a while for them to properly find their rhythm, Garak keeps moving so enthusiastically under him that he's almost bounced off a few times, but they make it eventually. Surprisingly soon, considering how much spikiness lingers between them. Garak arches up against him perfectly, enabling him to get deeper and deeper with every thrust. He hits the Cardassian equivalent of a prostrate as often as he can, and is rewarded when Garak keeps downright _shouting_ beneath him.

And... Jesus, this is _good_. He's not sure if its the lingering effects of the plant or several years of apparently repressed lust, but this is the best he's ever had. This is _perfect_ , with Garak tight around him and his cock buried exactly where it's supposed to be.

Garak is _wrecked_ beneath him, absolutely and utterly falling apart. His hair is falling into his eyes, his entire body is shaking and he can't seem to stop himself from making noise. Low whimpers, loud groans, this stretching kind of whine that sounds utterly _abandoned_. His composure is entirely gone, leaving something raw and animalistic underneath.

He doesn't feel much better, or worse depending on how you look at it, himself. He's never felt quite so abandoned, quite so out of his head with lust. His body is covered with sweat, his own legs are shaking so hard that they might well give out on him at any moment and he can't seem to stop giving his own grunts. He's absolutely _lost_ , Garak has undone him in some fundamental way.

Their movements get sharper, more desperate. Garak buries his head in his arms, and lets out a desperate sob. He reaches his hands out to rest over Garak's again, and squeezes bruisingly tight. They move together for a long minute more, shaking with the sheer intensity of it...

Jesus _fuck_.

And in the end, Garak is the one to come first. Without a touch to his cock, somehow even longer and dripping with his arousal, he bucks up and cries out. And then slumps back down on top of the box again, hides his face as his shoulders shake.

He lasts two more thrusts, and then follows him over the edge. He's vaguely aware that he's groaning into the back of Garak's neck shamelessly, but after that there's only light and pleasure and a sense of absolute release. He can't think, he can only lean into the surge of sensation and pant his orgasm into Garak's damp skin.

There's a long moment, afterwards. where they remain joined and slumped across the top of the box. Garak is breathing deeply, his face still buried in his arms like he doesn't quite want to look up yet. His own hands are still resting on top of Garak's, a far gentler grip that bears at least a little resemblance to a caress.

And then-

Awareness comes back to him. Not slowly, not gently, but with a sickening thud that sends acid surging up his throat. He yanks himself out of Garak's body, a great deal faster than he should've done, and staggers back a few horrified steps. Barely stops himself, before he staggers into another box and sends its contents smashing across the floor.

Garak lifts his head slowly, turns it over his shoulder to look at him. Their gazes meet, and hold in horrified silence for a long few moments. He notes, absently, that come is starting to drip obscenely down the man's still-spread legs.

"Well," he says, and has to lick his lips before he can even think of continuing "... _Shit_."


End file.
